The Roar of Hurrying Existence
by JennaTripped
Summary: Beginning sometime during the drowning arc. Rating to be safe. I do not claim ownership of anything related to Grey's Anatomy. Chapter 4 up!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I haven't written anything in a while. I nitpicked "Drowning on Dry Land" to death last week. Feel free to do the same to my ficlet.

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"You purchase pain with all that joy can give,

And die of nothing but a rage to live."

- Alexander Pope

* * *

Pain.

Pain pain pain pain PAIN. Something is crushing her chest; each breath is an agonizing struggle for air. At first she thinks she is still in the water, but this pressure is different than the awful feeling of her lungs filling with fluid. She feels as though she is being squeezed in a vice, and every time she exhales it gets tighter and tighter. Panic creeps up on her like the monster in her childhood closet.

She tries to scream and realizes someone is choking her! There is something in her throat! No. air. Air air air. She frantically reaches up to clear her airway, but her arms remain lying limply at her sides; dead weight.

Dead.

Death.

She is going to die!

No no no, there is too much left to say!

Meredith's eyes fly open in a panic only to shut just as quickly as bright lights assail her senses. Sounds swirl around her in a confusing clamor of rapidly beeping alarms and urgent human voices. Again she cries out, and again all that comes from her throat is a strangled hum. She coughs, and then arches her back and screams as the pain in her chest flares.

She can feel herself about to pass out, the gentle pull of darkness seeming so, so promising in this moment of terror.

Someone pulls her eyelid open. Through a sheen of tears caused by fear and pain she recognizes a shock of dark hair and a familiar black sweater before her eyes reflexively shut to block the bright light.

And then, as quickly as her consciousness has made her aware of the pain, it disappears. She feels numb. A pleasant, drowsy sensation passes over her, and Meredith knows she is finally going to die. Disappear forever. She forces her eyes open and looks at Derek, who has leaned over her. Someone pulls whatever it is out of her throat, and this time, the coughing doesn't even hurt. A warm hand strokes her hair gently. She takes a grateful gulp of oxygen before the blackness takes her.

* * *

Derek leans against the wall outside Meredith's hospital room and tries to calm his breathing. He is hyperventilating. It has been three days. Three days since the ferry boat disaster. Three days since he pulled Meredith out of the bathtub. Three days since he pulled her blue, lifeless body out of Puget Sound.

Someone hands him a paper bag and places a cool hand on the back of his neck. Ah, Addison. He trembles and slides to the ground as his legs turn to jelly. Addie pushes the bag towards his mouth. There have been a few moments like this over the last three days, moments when Derek feels the weight of impending loss hovering over him like a suffocating cloud. But this is a different kind of feeling. Meredith, his Meredith, has woken up.

Derek has known that if she ever woke up – _when_ she woke up – that he would be relieved. He's known that. It is all he has thought about for days now. He hasn't eaten unless forced. The Chief has let him take a blanket to the cushioned recliner in Meredith's room and hasn't once bothered him about going home, but he hasn't slept. All Derek has done during the last three days is pray to whatever God existed that his beautiful Meredith will wake up and be fine. And he's cried. A lot.

But he hasn't been prepared for what has actually happened. He is still relieved, but watching her cry out in agony from her broken ribs and bruises (bruises and broken ribs _he_ has given her), watching her fight the intubation… it is just more than he has been prepared to handle. She hadn't seemed to recognize him, the two times her panicked gaze had met his. Derek isn't even sure she could see him through her tears. He wipes at his eyes; he'd barely been able to see her through his.

"She woke up, Derek. That's good. Her EEG looks normal. She's just sleeping now."

Derek gasps and draws a hand across his eyes. Addison's hand rubs reassuring circles on his back as his shuddering breathing begins to calm. He gives her a jerky nod and moves the bag away from his mouth.

"It's just… she just…. I can't…"

"I know. But nothing you saw in there is abnormal. Bailey and the Chief worked on her for a long time. She's going to have some pain."

"I know, I know."

"It's common for patients to be confused the first time they wake up."

Derek nods. He knows all of this, but it really is nice to have someone reassuring him, telling him everything is fine. It might not be fine. She could still have brain damage no matter how good her EEG looks. But at least she is alive. And awake. If he is honest, it is more than he's been expecting after she'd been without a heartbeat for so long.

The thunder of many pairs of feet echoes down the hallway and Addison stands from her crouch beside him to block Meredith's door.

"How is she?"

"I heard she woke up."

"Bailey paged us 911! Is she okay?"

"Let me see her, _now_."

Derek casts a weary look up at Meredith's best friends and rubs his face. Addison meets his gaze and looks back to the interns.

"She's sleeping. She is confused and in a lot of pain when she woke up, so she's been given a light sedative and some pain medication. She needs quiet sleep right now, so no. You cannot see her."

"But Bailey – "

"Dr. Bailey is still with her. If you really think she's going to give you a different answer than mine, feel free to take it up with her." Addison's sharp gaze meets the eyes of every one of them. Only Cristina doesn't flinch. "That's what I thought. Now, all of you have a seat and try to calm down."

The four of them slump down on the floor of the hallway directly across from Derek. Izzie reaches her arm around George; he gently but firmly shrugs her off and looks at Derek. Izzie shoots her friend an injured look and opens her mouth, but seems to think the better of it and averts her gaze to her lap.

Addison leans down and squeezes Derek's shoulder, ignoring whatever drama is still unfolding with the younger doctors. "You'll be alright, then?"

"Yeah, thanks Addison."

Derek crumples the paper bag in his hands and listens to his ex-wife's expensive heels clicking down the corridor, leaving an awkward silence. After a few minutes of sitting and staring, George clears his throat.

"Did she… I mean, did it seem like she is, you know, normal?"

Derek furrows his brow in confusion and meets George's nervous stare.

"He means does she have brain damage, Shepherd," Cristina cuts in shortly.

"Cristina!" Izzie glares at Meredith's unrepentant best friend in horror.

"No, I want to know. We don't know how long she is underwater, Izzie. She could have brain damage. She might." Cristina nods her head sharply to accentuate the point and pins Derek with her direct and demanding stare.

When Derek replies, his voice is rough and low. "I don't know. We'll have to wait until she wakes up again… do some tests. She how she responds."

"Great, that's great." Alex taps his shoes back and forth in frustration. "How long until she wakes up again?"

Derek opens his mouth, but is saved from having to tell them he didn't know by Miranda Bailey stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her. In an instant, all four of her remaining healthy interns are on their feet, bombarding her with questions.

"Whoa whoa, all of you sit right back down where you were!"

Izzie, George, and Alex lean back against the wall, but Cristina stays standing.

"I have a right to know, Dr. Bailey. She's my best friend, and I'm her power of attorney. I want to know how she is."

"And I'll tell you all, Yang, just as soon as you sit your ass down. I don't care who you are when you get in my face. Sit down!"

Derek gave a little start when Cristina mentioned being Meredith's PoA. He hasn't given much thought to that, and can't help the burning feeling that it should be _him_ making medical decisions for Meredith, not Cristina. It is a pointless train of thought, but drives home his need to make his relationship with Meredith more permanent. It is permanent to him, but not to very many other people. Maybe not even to Meredith. One of many things he vows to rectify as soon as the love of his life is better.

Cristina backs off reluctantly and sits against the wall next to Alex.

"Derek, you can go in while I talk to these fools."

Derek gives her a grateful, anxious smile and leaves her to deal with the remainder of Meredith's family.

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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: And shockingly, I have time to write another chapter. If there are any readers who have written extensively for this fandom and would be willing to beta, please send me a PM. I'm looking for someone who has something decent written for Grey's so that I know that you know how to do it right.

Also, I revised the last chapter. I like writing in this tense.

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Life is like an onion: You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep. 

- Carl Sandburg

* * *

Oddly enough, the next time Meredith graces the world with her consciousness it is to find Izzie sitting in the chair beside her bed, knitting furiously. A frown of concentration mars her features, and she mutters to herself while removing stitch after stitch. Meredith watches her quietly for a few minutes. Occasionally Izzie tilts her head to the side and talks to herself, parodying a mystery person whom Meredith thinks has many of George's mannerisms. But that couldn't be right. Izzie wouldn't make fun of George. 

Meredith stays as quiet as possible, thankful that whatever is distracting Izzie from her knitting is also keeping her gaze off the monitors. If she'd been paying attention she would have known long ago that Meredith is awake. And frankly, Meredith isn't really looking forward to that. She doesn't remember what happened after she fell into the water. She has been cold, very cold, and then in a lot of pain. But that is where her recollection stops. She thinks Derek might have been there, but she isn't sure. Her heart clenches and she feels a sudden _need_ to see Derek, to have him stroke her hair and be her knight in shining whatever. She wants it to be _him_ sitting in the chair knitting, and wonders why he isn't. Well, maybe not knitting, but like… reading charts or saying all those _things_ to her about happiness and relationships. Maybe he went to get coffee or something. She feels perfectly justified in assuming that he has been here while she has been sleeping.

She wonders about the silent little girl. And the guy with the leg wound. The one who hit her.

At least the pain is gone, although an I.V. in her left hand stings a little and she has a headache. And her legs are kind of cold. And she feels like her ears need to pop. And her throat hurts; maybe she's thirsty. Ugh, water. She sighs, the little trivial discomforts making her forget she's supposed to be quiet, and it is the soft sound of Meredith's puff of breath that snaps Izzie's attention back to the girl in the bed.

"Oh my God, you're awake!" Meredith winces at the giddy, high-pitched volume that is Isobel Stevens' voice. "Oh my God, Meredith!" She is suddenly engulfed in a slightly smothering, definitely uncomfortable embrace. Bits of yarn press against her cheek. She doesn't say anything. "I knew it! Um," Izzie turns and tosses her knitting onto the floor, "Um, just stay awake okay, I'll be right back!"

Meredith watches with narrowed eyes as Izzie flees the room, her shouts of "Someone page Dr. Bailey!" echoing behind her. And then Meredith is alone. There's a nurse hovering at the door, but for some reason she doesn't come in. Meredith looks around the hospital room, never having had the misfortune of being a _patient_ in an ICU bed. It's not bad. She immediately feels horrible for thinking that. She shifts in the bed and tries to sit up. Her muscles don't cooperate, and that lack of cooperation annoys Meredith. She reaches for the bed control and pokes the correct button, feeling a little better about the entire situation when the bed, at least, obeys her.

And then Derek is there. She actually smells him before she sees him because she's looking down at the bed control when he runs into the room and only realizes she's not alone when his arms are around her and the scent of his shampoo drifts into her nostrils. It's enough to make her cry, but all that emerges is a relieved whimper. He's shaking and sobbing and saying her name, and she feels tears running down her face as she nuzzles his neck. She isn't sure how long they stay that way, but at some point Derek ends up squeezed alongside her in the bed. His sobs turn into heartbreakingly cute hiccups, and Meredith starts to worry about him because the arms encircling her so gently are still trembling.

His mouth is pressed against her right ear, and all she hears are murmurs of her name and how much he loves her. They don't say that to each other, not really, but it's perfect in this precise moment. The pillow beneath both of their heads is wet from a mixture of tears. She turns her head towards him and meets his mouth with hers, silencing him and finally – finally – stilling his shivering. She stares into his eyes for a long moment and he tightens his grip on her. Okay, she gets it: he's staying where he is.

And then she realizes they have an audience, and that all of the other people are crying too, some of them harder than Derek. Meredith spots Cristina leaning heavily against a chair. Alex has his hand on her back, and Cristina's eyes are suspiciously moist. Good God, how bad is this? Meredith reaches out her left hand towards her person and Cristina jerks forward and grabs it, violently wiping away the moisture on her face with her other sleeve. Meredith wants to hug Alex and Izzie and George too, but now she has no more arms left because she wants Derek right where he is and Cristina is crushing the bones in her other hand and Bailey (who clearly has something in her eye) looks like she needs to actually do something _medical_ for Meredith.

"How are you feeling, Meredith?"

Everyone quiets down. Derek squeezes her gently, very gently. Alex hits George on the back just a little harder than necessary to get him to stop crying.

"I'm fine."

The room explodes in sound. Derek lets out a muffled snort into her neck and Cristina rolls her eyes as the other interns make various noises of disbelief. Bailey just smiles.

"Good." The woman Meredith believes sees herself as a surrogate mother turns and looks at the other interns. "Alright, you've seen her. Now you can come back one at a time and take turns with her again."

Meredith notices as Izzie, George, and Alex shuffle reluctantly out of the room that Bailey doesn't appear to mind Derek's presence. Or Cristina's. That's nice.

As soon as the door is shut, Bailey walks over to the monitors and starts scribbling things into Meredith's chart. It's a kind of thick chart, and for the first time Meredith starts to wonder about the details of her hospital stay. Her voice is scratchy as she addresses her question to the room in general.

"What happened?" She feels Derek's muscles tense up, and Cristina is not looking at her anymore. Meredith is suddenly frightened. "Dr. Bailey?"

Bailey finishes with the chart and gives Meredith a very frank look. "Which version would you prefer?"

"Huh?"

"Would you like the sugar-coated version, or the blunt version?"

Meredith looks from Cristina's pinched face to Derek's red eyes and swallows with difficulty. "The blunt version, please."

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	3. Chapter 3

A/N: To be clear, I'm not including any of the stuff about Meredith's afterlife in this fic. I enjoyed it on the show, but I just can't make myself overtly acknowledge it in this fic. I think I got the point of it all, so you'll see that. Eventually.

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"The greatest danger, that of losing one's own self, may pass off quietly as if it were nothing; every other loss, that of an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc., is sure to be noticed." 

- Soren Kierkegaard

* * *

Izzie hates Callie. The feeling used to be a gut reaction, something she couldn't help and tried to squash. After all, she's not in high school anymore. But now it burns inside her and she doesn't know what to do. She's not a hater. She doesn't hold grudges, not really. She gets angry sometimes and says things she doesn't mean, but then she always bakes. People like her baking. They know it's her way of apologizing. She's tried to hold grudges; even the people who have wronged her the most (read Alex and her mother) never suffer for long with Izzie. 

But this _thing_ with Callie is a different kind of beast. Izzie doesn't see the world the way Cristina and Meredith and Alex do. They analyze. They interpret. They take facts and detach themselves to make an objective diagnosis. Izzie isn't able to do that, and she figures it's why George has always been her favorite. George can't do it either. But right now Izzie recognizes that their combined inability to be reasonable and calm is speeding the deterioration of their friendship. There's nothing she can do to stop it. Her mouth is open and there is word vomit spewing forth, George is wincing, and there is a cold look in his eyes that Izzie has never seen before.

Callie has taken George away from her.

And it's distracting her from Meredith. Izzie is relieved that Meredith is awake, is talking. She wants Meredith to be her number one priority right now, but the way Meredith and Cristina are each other's person? Izzie's person is George, and George is acting like that doesn't matter. So she's distracted and feels terrible about it.

She wishes… oh hell she doesn't know what she wishes. Maybe that she can accept the loss of George's confidence. Maybe that Callie dies in a fire. But Izzie immediately scratches that off her list of wishes because death is too close to her right now for it to be funny or even particularly clever. She lashes out when she's under stress. She wonders if that's a good enough excuse for her behavior with George. The problem with making excuses, though, is that she doesn't think she has anything to excuse. Okay, so her timing was off. That doesn't mean she is wrong.

And Izzie refuses to entertain the idea that she might be jealous. Sure, George is married. Izzie was supposed to be married, probably would have been by now. Sure, George has known Callie about as long as Izzie knew Denny, but he and Callie don't _know_ each other the way Izzie knew Denny. She was – is – in love with Denny. George is just seeking a shoulder to cry on and sex to soothe the ache. Izzie wishes she could have been there for George after his father's death, but having sex with George would have been like incest.

All of this speeds through her mind as she jogs down the hallway after George. She spots his head disappearing into an exam room and follows.

"George, wait!" She pushes in after him and stops just inside the doorway.

"Izzie, what do you want? You've already said your piece." He turns away from her and rummages through a cart, picking out and discarding pair after pair of TED hose.

"I just – "

"What, Izzie!? You just what? Hate my _wife_? Thanks for that, I really appreciate your support." He shoves the cart violently away and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "You know, I thought you were my friend. But friends don't insult each others' lovers. They don't gossip behind each others' backs. Not everything is about _you_, damnit!"

"I know that, George. I'm not trying to make this about me. It's about you."

"No, Izzie, it's not." George leans down and grabs a pair of TED hose from the floor, examining the label carefully. He pockets the package. "It's not about me. I'm happy. I love Callie and she… fixes me." His voice quiets and he stares at Izzie, hard. "My father would want me to be happy. So I'm going to be happy. And you know what, Iz?"

Izzie feels her eyes prick with tears. This isn't going well. "What, George?"

"Denny would want you to be happy, too. And I don't think trying to ruin my marriage is making you any happier than you were before. So, do us all a favor and stop trying."

With that, George leaves the room. Izzie leans over the exam table and lets silent tears stream down her cheeks. No one bothers her for a long time.

* * *

Alex enters Meredith's room quietly. Shepherd is still squeezed into the little hospital bed next to her but he looks strangely comfortable sleeping there, one arm still thrown over Meredith's middle. Alex exchanges a smile with Meredith, and she glances at Derek before playfully rolling her eyes. It doesn't fool Alex. All women like devoted slaves, which is what Shepherd has become, and Grey is no exception. 

"How you feeling?"

"Tired. But better."

Alex slouches into a chair on Meredith's side of the bed. He's glad she isn't feeding him that "fine" crap. He grabs the bed control out from under her hand and begins flipping through the channels on the TV.

"Nothing on. I guess the hospital only pays for porn in special cases." He settles for Jerry Springer.

"And I'm not allergic to painkillers." They both laugh, although the stress on her ribs makes Meredith wince.

"Speaking of which, what's your dosage? I can up it if you want. You shouldn't be hurting like that." Alex stands despite her protests and pulls Meredith's chart from the wall near the door. He flips through it, trying to find out when her last dose of pain meds was given.

"They just gave me some more an hour ago. It's fine, Alex, really."

"Nah, they obviously didn't give you enough if you can't even laugh."

"Alex, I have four broken ribs and a fractured sternum. It's going to hurt for a while."

Alex closes the chart and hovers for a moment near the door. He should do something for her, he thinks. He's not very good at just sitting and keeping people company. He needs to take action, fix things. Standing by never did anyone any good. He puts the chart back and returns to his chair.

"You need anything? Like ice chips or something?" Meredith gestures to the wheeled table beside her bed complete with a plastic cup of ice and a pitcher of water. "Right." And now the uncomfortable silence begins. Alex wonders if he should ask her about what really happened, but thinks that once Shepherd wakes up and Cristina gets back, Meredith will have to deal with more probing questions about her mental state than she'd like. He'll get the story eventually.

"You want to play cards?"

Alex looks at her skeptically and sees a desperate desire for normalcy in her eyes. Something is definitely going on with her. She's different.

"Shouldn't you be resting or something?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'm trapped in this bed and I've been sleeping for days. I'm rested. And cards are not typically a strenuous activity."

Alex lets a slow, mischievous grin spread across his features. He winks at Meredith and glances at the still-unconscious Shepherd. As the boyfriend emits a quiet snore and Grey tangles her fingers lightly in his hair, Alex grabs the cards and starts shuffling.

"Strip poker, then?"

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Because really, Meredith should be in counseling.

* * *

"Pain removes the veil; it plants the flag of truth within the fortress of a rebel soul." 

- C.S. Lewis

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Chapter 4 

"What the hell happened, Meredith?"

In a change from the previous 24 hours it is Cristina who leans shoulder to shoulder with her in the hospital bed. Meredith has finally convinced Derek that she won't disappear if he goes home and takes a shower, maybe a nap. And God, that had taken forever. He'd insisted he could do both things here, within 50 yards of her room. Meredith knows he is just afraid to leave her alone but even after Addison's interference, she still isn't sure how to handle him like this. So worried, so afraid, so… anti-Derek.

It had taken Cristina's arrival (apparently Derek judged Cristina to be a suitable replacement sentry) and a direct order from his ex-wife to get him to leave.

Meredith's feelings about Addison have, if possible, become even more complicated and confusing than they were before the… accident. She has the idea that Addison is responsible for Derek's relative physical and emotional safety in the aftermath of the ferry boat disaster, and for that she is both grateful and resentful. Thinking on Cristina's question, Meredith knows she has no right to either emotion; after all, the anti-Derek is Meredith's fault.

She looks down at her hands, picking non-existent lint from the crisp white hospital sheets and trying to ignore the little pulse-ox attached to her finger. Maybe she can go home tomorrow.

"Well?" Cristina sounds impatient, now. Her hand grabs Meredith's and stops her fingers' nervous movement.

"The patient knocked me in the water. It was cold; I couldn't stay up." Meredith's voice sounds flat even to her own ears, and she knows the instant the words leave her mouth that Cristina won't buy it. The realization causes her resting heartbeat to spike, lighting up the monitor and broadcasting her state of agitation to Cristina. Oh well, Cristina always knows when she's lying anyway. Doesn't even need the machines to tell her.

Meredith hates/loves that. Come to think of it, she kind of hates/loves everything about her best friend right now.

"Please," Cristina spits out, giving Meredith a hard look, "you and I grew up with the same mother. I know you know how to swim."

Meredith just shrugs, but Cristina is right. In fact, Meredith had been on the swim team until high school when she had shunned all school-sponsored activities in favor of smoking during P.E. and sex after school.

The hands gently holding Meredith's tighten. "So tell me the truth."

Meredith loses her patience and pulls her hands away angrily. "What truth? I drowned, that's it!" The pair exchanges a look, Meredith's eyes dark and stormy, Cristina's… frightened? Meredith softens her voice. "What answer do you want, Cristina?"

"I want the one you might not tell your boyfriend, but you _will_ tell your sis- your sister."

Meredith jerks her gaze away and shifts restlessly in the bed, the sudden prickling of tears behind her eyes making her uncomfortable. She realizes she's about to cry and blinks back the moisture, horrified.

"I tried to swim, I _did_. I tried." Meredith nods her head emphatically and turns her body towards Cristina, who is still pressed up against her side. "I tried _so_ hard!" She feels the corners of her mouth pulling down into a frown of complete misery.

"So what happened?" Cristina's eyes are surprisingly soft and her voice is gentle and coaxing. It pushes Meredith over the edge.

"I- I- tried! I was swimming and kicking but the water was _so cold_," she says shakily. I got to the surface but my arms were tired." She swallows and feels hot tears slide down her cheeks. She stares right through Cristina and sees nothing but murky darkness. "Then… for a second," she sobs, "just for _one second_, I thought, why bother fighting? It doesn't matter." _You don't matter_, the little voice inside her head screams. "Please don't tell anyone, okay?" Meredith pleads brokenly, her breaths coming in short, desperate sniffs.

Cristina clutches her tightly and Meredith sees that she's crying now, too. "Derek has to know, Mer."

"No! No, don't tell him. I don't want him to think…"

"Think what? He loves you Meredith. If you had died, he would never have been the same again." She takes a deep breath and calmly wipes her eyes. "Neither would I."

"But I didn't die."

Both women are quiet for a time, thinking about the possibilities. Meredith has almost forgotten what she said last when Cristina breaks the silence.

"But you wanted to. And he deserves to help you… fix that." An awkward pause. "I'm no good at that stuff, Mer," she whispers urgently, "you know that, you get that, right?"

"Yeah, I get it."

"Will you tell him?"

"I think he already knows, but yes, I'll tell him."

* * *

Derek inhales deeply and lets the breath out in a whoosh, feeling some of the awful tension in his muscles leave with it. He lounges on his side in Meredith's bed – not her hospital bed, but the big bed at her house – and watches her sleep. She snores; the noise she makes as she breathes is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. She's breathing.

He runs a gentle finger down her nose, relishing the feel of her warm, soft skin. Derek stifles a laugh when she frowns in her sleep and rubs her nose.

He burrows down under the covers and snuggles closer to her. The movement is enough to wake Meredith, and she sleepily turns and tucks herself into his embrace. He smiles at her, his eyes a little watery, and waits for her to smile back. She doesn't disappoint. They stare into each others eyes for what seems like eons, smiling softly like the lovestruck idiots they are. And then Meredith's mouth slowly begins to tilt into a frown.

"What is it?"

She bites her lip and focuses on the button of his flannel shirt. "I have to tell you something."

He tilts his head, confused. "Okay," he nods and rubs a reassuring hand up and down her arm, "what is it?"

"I don't know if I can tell you this. I don't really want to, but Cristina has a funny way about being right about things like this, even though she doesn't have a clue how to deal with her own stuff and can't be honest and truthful for herself and Burke…" Meredith trails off and look back up at him. "But I'm going to try this whole communication thing you seem to like."

"That's good," he whispers gently. Derek is well and truly confused now, and starting to get a little worried. He feels some of that tension begin to creep back into him, but reminds himself that nothing she says can possibly be more horrifying than the last week has been for him.

She takes a deep breath. "Okay." Another breath, and Meredith begins speaking quietly, so quietly that Derek has to strain to hear her. "The water was really cold."

Derek feels a hard knot of ice form in his stomach; the urge to gag is powerful. He doesn't think he wants to hear her describe how she died, to relive the last week. He's not sure he can handle it. But then he looks at her face and something tells him that this is necessary for Meredith. Telling this story is like breathing, it has to happen to live. He rubs her arm again.

"It was really cold and I was surprised. It happened fast. He just knocked me right over the ledge." She pauses and looks at him. Their eyes meet briefly before she looks away. "But I was swimming. My shoes were a problem, but once I realized I couldn't get them off I just went with it. It was hard work to swim, harder than I thought it ever could have been. I started to go under more often than I came up, and I wasn't getting any closer to the steps. And I started to think maybe I couldn't do it, maybe I wasn't a good enough swimmer." She buries her face between his arm and the pillow. "Maybe I just wasn't good enough at all."

Derek hears a strangled gasp and knows it comes from him. "No, no, you're better than good enough. Meredith, please…" He tugs on her a little until they face each other, only inches between their noses. "I know what your mother said, but you can't believe her. She didn't know what she was saying to you…"

"Yes, she did." Derek opens his mouth to protest but she silences him with a finger to his lips. "She knew, Derek. She just didn't know that this time, out of all the hundreds of times she's said something similar to me, that this time I would believe her." Meredith shakes her head and smiles sadly and what remains of Derek's heart breaks. "She's probably right… but in the end it doesn't matter. I came back for you anyway."

"No, Meredith Grey, it _does _matter. _You_ matter, and not just to me. You are extraordinary." He swallows hard and holds her gaze, knowing he has to find the words somewhere. He has to make her believe him. "Look at how far you've come, what you've been through, who you've been through it with. You're a brilliant doctor, a loving person, and an amazing friend. You are so far from ordinary, and I love you so much…"

Derek watches her blink away tears. "She said the same thing, you know. My mother."

"What?"

Meredith shakes her head. "I think in the end, maybe my mom loved me anyway." Derek stays quiet. There's nothing he can say to that. "But I'm still feeling a little more dark and twisty than usual." She smirks.

Her attempt at levity doesn't move him, but he smiles gently. "I know… don't worry though, we'll get you better."

* * *

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